There's a payphone ten feet away
I pat my pockets - no change,
twisting and turning my palm
beneath these florescent lights
it's been years since I've had
your number in cobalt Sharpie -
I've had it memorized for a while now.
Even when you left the digits burned
like as long as I knew your name
your ghost would be a permanent
resident within my broken heart.
So much of my strength is going to
fighting myself - doing everything
I can not to call you and tell you
I'm coming back for a few days.
Even if you wouldn't give a damn
I'd sure like for you to know
just how close I'll be and
just how pathetic I feel for
waging war against a payphone.
A god damned payphone and nothing more. . .
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